by Debra Kayn
The rumble of motorcycles invaded his peace again. He sucked on the cigarette, tilted his head, and sent the smoke in the air.
Battery arrived first and instead of getting off his motorcycle, his president leaned forward and braced his forearms on the handlebars. Without saying a word, Battery questioned Swiss's state of mind.
Swiss shrugged. He had no idea if he was okay. The pain in his chest held the tension in his shoulders. Tied up in a knot, he could only sit and accept what he'd heard.
The other riders shut off their bikes and joined Battery. Each one assessing Swiss.
"Mel called, believing you needed some help." Battery pulled a cigarette out of the pocket of his vest.
"Mel only wants to earn his patch." Swiss rubbed the end of his cigarette against his jeans and pocketed the butt.
"Rod put everything together, because of your last name, and filled me in, brother," said Battery. "What can we do?"
Swiss inhaled deeply. "I need to know if the woman who keeps showing up to the bar is my daughter."
Battery stood, straddling the motorcycle, and extracted a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. "Rod already solved that question. He found a picture of your daughter on Facebook and linked it to the employee picture at the woman's shelter. Rod and Sander both verified that your daughter and the woman at the bar are not the same person. I printed out a picture of Heather if you'd like it."
His lungs seized, and he coughed, grabbing for the paper. Refusing to look at the proof of his grown daughter, he slipped the paper into his vest pocket.
"Talk to me, Swiss." Battery sat back down. "Put the pieces together for us, so that we can help you."
He'd joined Ronacks a year after leaving the Army. A year after Anita took Heather away from him and he'd hit rock bottom. He fingered the scar on his cheekbone. A year after he got shot and almost died trying to keep his family together.
He inhaled deeply, and his chest only hurt more. "I've rented the duplex since I was twenty-one years old, newly married, and my then wife was pregnant with my baby. Four years later, I lost my family and haven't seen my daughter since. Until Rod told me the woman's name at the shelter, I never thought twice over who sent Gia to me. It could be my daughter helping Gia. Heather could be the one working at the shelter, though after everything that'd happened between her mom and me...I don't know. I fucking don't know anything else or the reasons why she'd even think of putting a woman in my life."
"Why would your daughter call herself Bianca?" asked Rod.
Swiss gazed at his vice president. "I don't know. Maybe she changed her name or..."
"She didn't want her dad to find out," said Battery, finishing Swiss's thought. "Swiss, I know what you must be thinking, man, but you've got to keep your head."
"I'm okay." He swallowed. "Not feeling much right now."
"That might have something to do with your bloody knuckles. Who did you beat up?" asked Sander.
Swiss curled his fingers, taking pleasure from the tight stinging skin. "Since your ugly ass wasn't around, I used a tree."
Sander dipped his chin in admiration. "Next time, let me know in advance, and I'll hold Mel for you to beat."
The comradery between him and his MC brothers eased the pressure in Swiss's chest enough for him to take a good-sized, much-needed breath. "I need to get back to Gia."
"The rest of the club is outside the duplex." Battery glanced at Rod. "We weren't sure how many of us we'd need to take you down."
Swiss stood, threw his leg over his Harley, and said. "A half hour ago, it would've taken more members than we have."
Battery straightened his beard and lowered his voice. "What are you doing with Gia?"
Swiss stared out into the street. Sometime between busting the skin open on his knuckles and dragging his ass back on his bike, he realized Gia stopped being the answer for sex while they worked to keep her safe.
"Depends on what she's going to do with me." Swiss started his motorcycle before Battery could ask any more questions and headed home.
Gia only knew what he'd given her, and it wasn't a whole hell of a lot. He sped up, taking the corner and pulling the bike up straight. They had a lot to work through, and he needed to find out more about Heather.
Afterward, he'd have to wait and see how things would turn out with Gia. It could be that Gia would decide he wasn't the type of man to plan tomorrow with, and she'd leave.
Chapter Thirty
Swiss sat at the two-person dinette inside the duplex. Gia's legs shook, and she held on to the back of the chair opposite of him, unable to sit down and face whatever decision Swiss had come to when he'd left the duplex. He'd returned with both of his hands raw and bloody and ignored her need to clean up his wounds. Instead, he ordered her to sit.
Sit at a table they'd never used before as if she was now a guest.
"Let me at least get you some ice," she said.
"My hands are fine." He lifted his chin, motioning toward her chair. "We need to talk."
Oh, God. He was going to kick her out. Where would she go? How could she leave him?
He needed her. She needed him. For whatever reason, her calling Bianca had set him off, and she needed to fix what she'd done. The men were still out there trying to get to her, and she still had so much to learn about Swiss. She wasn't ready to leave.
She sat down and grabbed the edge of the seat under her thighs. Mel's uneasiness while staying with her while Swiss left the duplex only heightened her anxiety. She had no idea what was going on or why Ronacks members remained outside in the small yard. Probably to escort her out of town.
"My tires are slashed. I can't go anywhere," she said, hoping it was enough to keep her in Haugan.
Swiss frowned. "No use buying new ones until we catch whoever is after you."
"You're going to let me stay and continue to help me?"
"Gia." Swiss sprawled his hands on the top of the table, framing a folded piece of paper. "Nothing has changed. You've still got people after you who want to hurt you, and I'll continue protecting you. But, we need to discuss a few things. I've got half a story, and you've got the other half. Somehow, we're both mixed in this shit together."
"Okay," she whispered.
She'd tell him anything. Everything. Keeping Bianca from him was never meant to hinder the plan to stop the men from coming after her.
He stood and walked over and picked up the picture of him and his daughter where she'd replaced it after he'd stormed out of the duplex. Returning to the table, he set it in front of her.
"Open the paper on the table and then tell me if you recognize the woman." Swiss sat back down, planted his elbows on the table, and clasped his hands.
She watched him carefully as she followed his request. He kept his eyes averted and on his hands.
Carefully, she smoothed the paper with her open hand and looked down. The close-up of the woman smiling back at her got her full attention. She exhaled her relief.
"Do you know her?" asked Swiss.
"Yes." She sagged forward and leaned against the table. "This is Bianca, the woman who helped me get to Montana and you. She works at the woman's shelter in Seattle."
Swiss opened up his hands and cradled his face. She reached across the table and cupped his hand. "She's not a bad person, Swiss. She helped me. I'd swear on my life she's not mixed in with the men after me. My co-worker—Trinity, one of the two that were murdered—was Bianca's best friend. The night I showed up, pounding on the shelter's front door, Bianca let me in. I told her everything. I had no idea that she was friends with Trinity. But there was an instant bond between us. She understood what I was going through, and she went above her job to help me get out of Seattle."
Swiss pushed away from the table. "I need a drink."
"I'll make you a coffee," she said, standing.
He shook his head and rummaged through the kitchen cabinet and retrieved a bottle of whiskey. Gia had heard him say that he'd like some booze in the past a
nd when she'd offer to pour him a glass, he always refused. He had stated he wanted nothing to cloud his awareness while protecting her.
Swiss drank straight from the bottle, wiped his mouth with his arm, and looked at her. "Ronacks is outside. They'll stay until I tell them to leave."
She held up her hands. "I'm not questioning you. I just don't understand what you're thinking and what you're going through."
"Hell," he mumbled, putting the bottle to his lips again.
He screwed the top back on and set the bottle in the cabinet. His hand shook, and she stepped over and put her palms on his stomach.
Swiss stiffened. A lump of emotion choked her, seeing him obviously upset. His usual immovable stance on everything from the way he lived his life to how he enjoyed sex with her had her believing he was untouchable. But, something had touched him deeply.
"Talk to me," she whispered. "This isn't about me, Bianca, or my situation. Let me help you."
He cupped the back of her head and brought her to his pounding chest. She wrapped her arms around him and absorbed his trembles.
Swiss kissed the top of her head. That one, little sign of affection fortified her.
"I think Bianca...I think she's my daughter Heather," he whispered as if afraid to admit it to himself.
She pulled back, and Swiss held on tighter. "You don't know?" she asked.
She felt him shake his head. "I haven't seen her since she was four years old."
Her heart raced. She'd assumed he'd been a part of his daughter's life. Phone calls, pictures, and maybe his ex-wife lived in a different country or the other side of the United States, and visits were far and few between. The Swiss she knew, the man who honored his Motorcycle Club family, his loyalty to his country by serving in the Army, would never walk away from his child.
"Why not?" said Gia.
Swiss let her go and walked back to the table. Without looking, he turned over the adult picture of Bia—Heather.
Gia followed him and sat down, weakened from the news. A whole new allegation toward Bianca/Heather came to her. Had his daughter sent her to Swiss? Why?
Gia had no idea anymore. She'd believed and put her faith behind Bianca helping her. Not only because she worked in a woman's shelter, but because she was personally connected to Trinity and had wanted justice served to the men who killed her.
"Why would she send me to you?" she asked.
Swiss sat down opposite of her and picked up the picture of his baby girl that he remembered. "I don't know what it means."
Gia bowed her head, overwhelmed with the direction the conversation was going and how it involved her. She pressed her lips together as the realization that Bianca wasn't Bianca and her interest in helping Gia, seeing that Trinity's murderers were arrested, might not have been in Gia's best interest. That she could've been played.
The trust between them broken, she jumped to the obvious conclusion. "Does your daughter hate you?"
Swiss exhaled heavily and fingered the scar below his eye. "If she listened to her mother growing up? Yes."
She stood from the table and paced. "What have I got myself into," she muttered.
Gia's situation wasn't a joking matter. There was a street gang after her and planned to kill her. Now Swiss's daughter was mixed up in everything.
She turned to Swiss. "Does your daughter belong to Yesler Street Gang? Did I just walk into a trap?"
"Don't know," said Swiss.
He stared down at the table, thumping his fist against the surface. She sat back down in the chair, grabbed his hand, and forced him to look at her.
"She's the only one who can give us answers. We could sit here all day and never know why she sent me here," she said. "We need to call her."
"You're here because you'll be safe with me."
She snorted. "You don't know that. I don't even know that anymore. Maybe I should get my tires fixed and take off where nobody knows where I am. Sh-she could've sent the killers here, Swiss. Have you thought about that?"
The scar below his eye deepened until it appeared as if he looked out of only one eye. "All I know is you're not going anywhere."
"But, if it isn't safe anymore, I can't stay," she whispered.
Swiss shook his head, cleared his throat, and pulled away from her. "I need a cigarette."
"Now?"
He headed toward the door. "Give me ten minutes, sweet, and then I'll tell you the rest of the story about my daughter. Maybe then, you can figure it out for me."
The door shut.
Gia stared at the empty room.
Swiss's abrupt turnaround scared her. She wasn't sure she wanted to know, or if learning more about Swiss's past would help. Dread settled over her. Not knowing what happened years ago to break up a family, she could only go off the information Swiss gave her and the absolute pain he was going through.
She flipped over the picture of the adult Heather and slid the picture frame of Swiss's daughter next to her daddy. She studied each face, side by side, and finally recognized Bianca in the face of the child.
His daughter had Swiss's eyes.
Chapter Thirty One
Battery and Rod stood in the front yard of the duplex. Swiss puffed on his cigarette, stomping out second guesses. If he told Gia some bullshit story to appease her, he'd have a chance at keeping her in his life.
He couldn't face watching her walk away. He couldn't lose another person he loved, and he was falling in love with Gia. He never had to admit it to himself or face his feelings, because he lived for each day.
She woke up in his bed, and that was good enough for him.
Every night, she cuddled against him, and that felt right.
He never let her situation put fear in him because he had no doubt he could keep her safe. Nobody could take her away as long as she needed him.
But the truth punched him in the throat, and fear gripped him when he was faced with losing Gia. The distress in her eyes and the unasked questions, judging him for being a man who walked away from his child.
He was afraid of losing her.
"If you could keep five or six brothers around the block, I'd appreciate it." Swiss rubbed out the lit coal on his thigh.
Battery dipped his chin. "We'll always have your back."
Swiss looked out at the men. His family. His brothers. They meant more to him than anything.
He'd stood beside them against others. Fought, bled, killed.
In return, they never judged, questioned, or demanded anything from him except for his loyalty.
He'd die for them.
All through the years, he'd kept his secret, preferring to have a clean slate with Ronacks and leave the past behind him. Whether Gia stayed or left him, he'd still have Ronacks, but over the last twenty-four hours, he knew deep in his soul, Ronacks wasn't enough. Not anymore.
He wasn't getting any younger. Until Gia moved in, he'd walked through each day with nothing to look forward to but the next party, the next woman, the next situation to hit the club. Gia made him look forward to what made him happy. He faced the part of himself that he'd ignored for twenty-two years.
Battery reached into his pocket, removed his phone, and put the cell to his ear. "Yeah?"
Swiss turned away to go back inside, and Rod slapped his shoulder and motioned toward Battery, who held up a finger wanting everyone to stay.
"When?" Battery looked to Swiss. His gaze intensified. "Do. Not. Let him leave the bar. I'm on it."
Battery circled his finger in the air to the others. Every member of Ronacks Motorcycle Club moved to their bikes. Swiss looked to Rod. "I can't leave Gia."
Rod nodded. "You'll stay."
"No, we're on it. Lock the building down. I'll stay in touch." Battery shoved his phone in his pocket and pointed at Swiss. "That was Raelyn. Two men and a female in a navy colored sedan parked a block away from the bar. Sander spotted them and went inside the bar without tipping them off. He can see them from the office window, and it is the woman from t
he bar, and the car's front fender has a hell of a dent from Mel's motorcycle."
Swiss changed his mind, knowing Rod would protect Gia with his life. In return, he'd protect Gia by getting rid of the threat. "Can you—?"
"Go. I've got Gia covered. Take care of her business." Rod stepped backward toward the front door of the duplex.
Swiss strode out to the curb with Battery. "I want them."
"You got it," said Battery. "Enter on Third Street. They shouldn't see you coming. I'll hold the others off. You've got two minutes from the time I lose sight of you before we all move in."
Swiss slipped on his gloves and yelled over the roar of engines lining the street. "Wait two minutes, and then follow me. I want an escort out of town. I don't care where the fuck we go, but they're not leaving the territory alive."
He rode off. His adrenaline kicked high, and he tuned into everything around him. The slight pine scent in the air. The beeping of a garbage truck on the next block picking up the morning garbage cans at the curb. The noxious diesel smell left behind by an old school bus heading to the high school. He focused on the cars around him in case the men he was after tried to leave.
On Third Street, he spotted the sedan and shifted into neutral to quiet the engine, and rolled to the curb with at least two hundred feet between him and the men he wanted. On foot, he removed his pistol and carried it close to his thigh. While the residents of Haugan understood Ronacks position within the territory, there were tourists who wouldn't view the situation the same way.
He navigated between four parked cars and self-talked over the voices in his head while he inhaled four seconds and exhaled four seconds to steady himself. Running over the worst case scenario of these men touching, hurting, killing Gia the way they had her coworkers in Seattle, he focused on every possible outcome of what they'd do when he had them within range.
The driver gazed out the front windshield. The male passenger looked out the side. The woman in the backseat sat with her head against the side window.
